


Bond 10 Series, Issue #1: Diarmuid Ua Duibhne (Saber)

by LeviMartine



Series: Bond 10 Series: Fate/Grand Order One-Shots [1]
Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bond 10, Bond 10 series, F/M, Female Master/Male Servant (Fate), Master x Servant (Fate), One Shot, One Shot Collection, Servant x Master (Fate)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 14:54:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18471244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeviMartine/pseuds/LeviMartine
Summary: Fate/Grand Order "Bond 10" Series, a collection of erotic one-shots centered around the concept of a Master and Servant sharing an intimate night together as a consummation of their nigh-unbreakable bond, forged through months or even years of battling at each other's sides at the brink of the Incineration of Humanity.





	Bond 10 Series, Issue #1: Diarmuid Ua Duibhne (Saber)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StrayLiger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrayLiger/gifts).



There was something unique in the way Diarmuid kissed her - not so much, that it was unique to the way he did things, but rather, as compared to others that Mia had been with; he had approached her confidently, his hands clasped her at her shoulder and her waist, but ever a knight and a gentleman, his touch was gentle and his request respectful,  
  
"May I have this pleasure, Lady Mia?"  
  
"You don't need to be so formal..." she responded, barely disguising the increasing pace of her breaths with her usual playful straightforwardness, "but you may."  
  
He briefly considered thanking her verbally, but, perhaps with such a clear directive, he didn't need to; instead, Diarmuid simply leaned in, pulling her small frame closer to meet her lips with his. So gentle, so sensuous, and yet, there was no denying that he ached with desire. While their kiss twined them deeper into each other, it seemed imminent that she would fall back and he might collapse on top of her... but he had more control over the situation than that, and his embrace softened her impact, while keeping him hovering just above, her legs still hanging over the edge of the bed, straddling his own. This was not accidental.  
  
"You know you have to take my clothes off before we start doin' anything, right?" Mia managed to whisper between smooches, simultaneously finding his insistent eye contact both intense and arousing, her own hands tracing the back of his neck and the line of his bare chest.  
  
"Of course," the Irishman smiled warmly, "but I want us both t' enjoy every moment. A Lady should always be made t' feel like a queen, an' as a Knight of Fianna, you could grant me no greater honor than t' allow me to give ye that..."  
  
Rather deftly, Diarmuid's nimble fingers slipped the hooks of her bra undone, and freed her breasts to the humid air of the bedroom. For what was usually a white room, he certainly had been able to completely change the atmosphere in it with relatively little. A few candles here, some roses there, coming from anyone else it might have seemed trite, but Diarmuid was so sincere about his romancing that it felt inspired and fresh in his hands.

 

For Mia, it was still a bit surreal. How did he - a valiant hero and knight who prided himself on his chivalry - fall for _her_? In her mind, she was an unremarkable woman and he could have had so much better… but at the same time, it wasn’t as if the feeling weren’t to some degree mutual. Still, knowing his story…

 

...but perhaps that was the point.

 

He handled her body decisively but never roughly nor forcefully, and yet for all her impatience, she couldn’t bring it upon herself to pull her beloved Servant down closer. Mia hesitated when her hand came to rest at his belt, even as his sweet kisses and sensuous embrace beckoned her.

 

Diarmuid paused, not wanting to pull too far away from his Master’s lips, “What’s wrong? I’m not too aggressive, am I? We don’t have to do this if…”

 

She pulled him back in for another kiss, trying to reassure him as much as reassure herself that this was even happening, “Yeah, I wanna… but you’re okay with this, right?”

 

Her other hand still meandered at his waist, one fingertip still hooked at the belt.

 

“Lady Mia,” Diarmuid’s voice softened, and he rested his palm on her cheek, “I understand your reluctance, and… I’m glad that you care enough to ask… but, I am eager to serve you, so please, by all means…”

 

Though part of him still wished to approach delicately, even he was mildly (if not outwardly) surprised at the forthrightness, the insistence, with which he guided her not just to his belt but also to the top of his groin. This passion, this connection, this… _trust_ … Diarmuid couldn’t recall feeling it since his tryst with the Loathly Lady.

 

Such a feeling couldn’t be wrong, could it?

 

The fact that Mia showed concern for him, only solidified in his mind that he had made the right decision.

 

Now that she knew she had his consent, she felt more confident that she could be assertive, and began to undo his pants just as he’d undone her clothing. Though small of frame, Mia’s enthusiasm compensated for her size, at least with regard to this swordsman above her; she pulled him down a bit more, to where he all but lost his balance, and her kisses began to deviate. Whilst her lips moved from his mouth, to his cheek, then his jaw, her roving touch trailed into his fly, opening and peeling away fabric like she’d done on many occasions before to prior lovers. Diarmuid couldn’t help letting a gasp escape, his face flushing a faint pink from both surprise and arousal, which only intensified when Mia’s mouth met his neck.  
  
“Fuck, you liked that _that_ much? I haven’t even gotten started~” she whispered; her heart raced, trying to swallow he doubts and maintain a semblance of confidence.

 

He snapped back to reality, his words threatening to catch in his throat and quivering on their initial release, “N-no, y-yes, I… _oh… my Lady…_ ”

 

Mia nearly knocked the wind out of him again, and all it took was a few nips and licks at his neck; her gentle toying with the bare skin of his shaft only added another shock wave. Diarmuid wasn’t so openly libidinous as others, so he hadn’t been hard yet, but he wasn’t completely flaccid by any means either, and with that simple touch, the process sped up.

 

However, he wasn’t totally at the whims of her sensual teasing; the Irishman regained some of his composure, and began to tilt the tables back in his favor. Nimble finger tips danced from betwixt her breasts, up to her collar and finally to her neck.

 

The reaction? _Electric_.

 

Mia’s chest heaved, and her motions down below paused while she processed this new source of titillation. Diarmuid used that momentary lapse to gently take the reins again, and coaxed her panties from around her hips and off her legs, leaving his Master completely nude.

 

The rosy flush in his face grew, but by this point, it wasn’t at all from embarrassment. Rather, he was both surprised by his own eagerness, and incredibly turned on. To say that he wanted Mia was an understatement, he craved her in that moment - not simply her body, but her entirety. Diarmuid returned to his position above her, but in a slow rush; he parted her thighs at the same time he caressed them, and even as he met her eyes, this advance continued… until one of his thumb brushed the scar on her abdomen.

 

Mia flinched slightly, and he, too, stopped, yet his voice retained the soothing and vaguely smoky character, “Did I do something wrong? Are ye okay?”  
  
She nodded, “N-no, it’s fine, I’m fine, just… not used to that.”

 

“Do ye not want me to touch there?”

 

“I didn’t say stop…” it was her turn to blush, but she countered it by tousling his forelock on her index finger, “C’mere…”

 

Diarmuid continued where he left off, his hands moving up her torso and simply absorbing the tactile information, over her breasts and the small nibs perched on top of them, back to her neck until his palms cupped her jaw, thumbs lightly tracing the lobes of each ear. How he managed to figure out that these two places, of all the sensitive locations on her body, made her melt into putty, she wasn’t sure.

 

“Now… where were we, Master?” he seemed to purr as he watched her responses, feeling her weakly grasp one of his arms, the other attempting to trail downward once more. This time around, he actively moved to hasten her touch, and though still not fully erect, he was certainly almost there, and made contact a split second sooner than she had been expecting. Nevertheless, she adapted, hooking her leg so to optimize her reach and closing her small hand around the crown of his penis.

 

Without thinking, Mia licked her lips, not wanting to break eye contact with Diarmuid, but also, the maddening curiosity that came with realizing he was _thick_. Not so much that it seemed too big, just enough to be satisfying. She wanted to look, to taste even, and find out just what she was working with, and yet… she still found herself wishing to engage heart as much as body.

 

By the same token, Saber was the one to break eye contact, and followed her example, in a manner of speaking: first, by dipping down and kissing her neck, but rather than anything so brute as biting, he blew thin streams of air over the trail he traced. If the fluttering of his fingertips had elicited an electric reaction, then this was the equivalent of a full blown thunderstorm. Mia quaked, the hackles and goosebumps rose over her skin, and one might daresay she even let out a whimper. How the Hell…? What was this power he seemed to possess over her?  
  
His second order was to retrace his path down her front, two fingers and a thumb snaked over her, more slowly this time. Diarmuid briefly lingered at her nipple, spiraling inward from areola to the pert nub, to which he applied a firm but not painful squeeze. Advancing further, while avoiding her scar out of respect (even if, truly, he rather liked it on her), he followed the line of her hip and into her pubic triangle. Remaining steady through the waves of pleasure emanating from her strokes wasn’t easy, and it was clear that she had experience, but at last he could return the favor - two fingers lovingly parted the top folds, quickly being glazed with warm moisture before teasing her clitoris.

 

Mia’s breaths became faster, more labored, and she closed her eyes to ride the influx of pleasure. Needing an outlet, she pulled her loyal Servant back into a kiss, their tongues meeting for a few brief moments before she nipped at his bottom lip. She wanted more… and he delivered.

 

“You like torturing me like this?” she gasped, simultaneously enjoying the foreplay and the subtle contortions of his flushed face, “didn’t take you for the sadistic sort…”

 

“No, never, my Lady… I want you to… to enjoy it…”

 

Upon uttering these last words, Diarmuid slid his middle finger into her, up to the first, then the second joint. There was next to no resistance, and it only took a few leisurely strokes in and out before he could fit the second finger in as well. Mia clamped her muscles down on them, the sensation only giving her a taste of what she craved; it was difficult to contain her gasps and moans, and though he didn’t say so, the beads of thick pre-cum that had been coating her thumb now left the whole head of his cock slick and sensitive, he wanted it just the same.

 

“If… if you’ll permit me…” trying to maintain his words and composure was getting trickier, and he wasn’t sure of a tactful way to ask, “Mia… may I… may I taste you…?”

 

So lost in her rapture was she, that Mia took a moment to respond, slightly caught off guard by the inquiry and yet that much more turned on by it, “Yes… fuck… you didn’t have to ask… just do it…”

 

Diarmuid smiled weakly and nodded, “Better… to be sure…”

 

He determined that he could no longer simply linger at the edge of the bed; he maneuvered Mia up to the pillow, and crawled upon the mattress after her, keeping her legs parted. The fingers that had been inside her, Diarmuid raised to his lips, and glanced back toward his Master before sampling the nectar. Within seconds, he was lowering himself, and gingerly kissed her pubic mound before going in for the kill.

 

Suddenly, Mia noticed - when she didn’t have her head rolling back in ecstasy - that (even if temporarily) Diarmuid’s usual genteel demeanor seemed to melt into a much more assertive and one might daresay _devilish_ persona. The politeness of his request contrasted sharply with the fervor he poured into the act of oral sex, and he had a blazing fire in his citrine eyes as he observed her reactions. If this was what he was like during _foreplay_ , then it seemed inevitable that the main act might unleash a completely different side of the swordsman.

 

His hands cradled her thighs in just the position he needed them to be, and when he paused to take a quick breath, Diarmuid would intersperse that with nips and smooches along the most delicate parts of her inner thighs before diving back in. All of this was making it difficult to contain himself, and he couldn’t help a bit of slow, unconscious rutting against the sheets.

 

Mia’s toes curled, and between gasps and small moans, she wanted to tell him to do it even more; wanted to praise him for giving amazing head; and wanted to command him to come up and fuck her brains out… but she just… couldn’t. She was, for the moment, caught in his spell. An orgasm was a given.

 

Legs clamping and locking, fingers threading into his wavy black locks on one hand and gripping the sheets with the other, Mia’s lean frame quivered and the sudden wave unleashed from her coiled orgasm forced her to arch her back.

 

“D… Diarmuid…” she gasped out breathlessly.

 

“Does that please you?” his tongue flicked over her clit again, and still he hovered close enough that his breaths shifted her pubic hair, “I can keep going, if you wish…”

 

Just as he pressed his lips to her _mons Venus_ , Mia - impatient, but not upset - sat up, and pulled her Servant into a hasty kiss, catching him by surprise, but the unspoken signal was not lost on Diarmuid. She pulled the Irishman back down with her as she returned to her reclined position, not letting him free until he effectively lay on top of her.

 

Mia only broke the kiss once her beloved Saber was at a level where her fingers could grasp the buttons of his shirt, and just the same as he had lingered over her most intimate parts, she lingered at his lips, so closely that each word brushed hers against them.  
  
“Take me…” she couldn’t beat around the bush, she didn’t have the same way with words that Diarmuid did, “fuck me like a wedding night…”

 

All the while, she busied her hand with sliding each button out of its buttonhole, from his collar, down his chest and torso; her forthrightness at any other time probably would have caused him to sputter and fluster, if only for a moment… but here, and now, the contrast of their respective approaches to sex lit a fire in him, fueled his lust deeper and yet, he found himself that much more attracted to her.

 

“A-as you wish…” Diarmuid managed to whisper in response, his mouth curling back into the sweet and seductive smile as he planted another kiss, “...Lady Mia.”

 

Once the last buttons were undone and his shirt tumbled open, Mia ran her hands all the way up from Saber’s hips and navel, to his chest and collar, pushing the fabric off his shoulders in their path. Confidently, he could say that he did not feel self-conscious, having his body explored so thoroughly, so… _lovingly_ , by this woman. Diarmuid’s heart raced, he couldn’t get that shirt off fast enough. Before long, it was unceremoniously cast aside, to worry about later.

 

His arms freed, they were quickly tasked to embracing his Master again, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck for a moment as they lay pressed together. Their bodies were aligned, with him hard as stone and her wet with arousal, all they needed was to take that final step.

 

Almost reluctantly, Diarmuid sat up, caressing Mia again from breasts, to hips, to thighs, “Are ye ready, Master…?”

 

She nodded, her face flushed with anticipation, “Go ahead…”

 

He maneuvered them both, and guided himself in, slowly, but paused - even against the intense beckoning of his instincts, against the seeming embrace of her inner walls - when he thought he saw her wince, “Does it hurt…?”

 

Mia stammered, “N-no, it’s fine.”

 

Internally, Mia’s thoughts raced, and she emitted small, soft moans as Diarmuid sunk into her. He really was thick… not so much that it was uncomfortable, just that it took a moment to adjust to. The gallant Saber pulled her into his lap, raising her legs and hips so as to maximize the depth of his penetration, and the sheer primordiality of his strained groans filled the room.

 

His first few strokes were as slow and gentle as everything else he’d done that night, but it only took a subtle shift in Mia’s expression before he remembered her unambiguous request:

 

_Fuck me like a wedding night…_

 

Diarmuid’s idea of what that entailed was probably different from hers, but as far as he was concerned, this wasn’t about him. He mounted his Master, her body nearly at a right angle as he supported her, and his thrusts picked up in intensity quickly. But, as Diarmuid wasn’t fond of sex without intimacy, even in his feverish rutting, he hovered so that his and Mia’s lips were never much more than a breath apart. Mia clung to his back and shoulders, her nails beginning to dig into his skin, as she braced herself against the pleasurable pain of being effectively drilled into the mattress.  
  
“Harder…” though breathless, she beckoned him.

 

He didn’t question it, couldn’t. Diarmuid’s face grew more flushed, beads of sweat were gathering at his temples, and he met Mia’s eyes for a mere moment before throwing most of his weight into every motion of his hips. The whole bed rocked with the force of their lovemaking, with her adjusting only slightly to maximize the friction against her clitoris.

 

“D… Di… Diar…!”

 

Mia couldn’t even manage to utter his whole name, which he took to mean that he was doing it right; his grip on her thighs tightened, and he left glancing kisses on her lips and the corner of her mouth, “Mia… Mia… my Lady…”

 

Her hand trailed back up, threading through his hair once more, the other leaving faint red lines across his spine. Mia felt vaguely lightheaded, drowning in the steamy atmosphere and nearly lost in the throes - at this point, she was sure he must be fucking her brains out… and honestly, she was fine with that prospect.

 

“My Lady...”

 

She was briefly brought back to reality by Diarmuid’s labored whisper, meeting that golden, heavy-lidded gaze, and feeling her heart jump a little… was this what it felt like to be in love...?

 

“Hh?” Mia couldn’t even manage a full word to acknowledge him.

 

“Do you… may I…” he briefly bit his bottom lip, not sure of how exactly to ask, “may I cum inside of you…? If… if that’s not too bold…”

 

Wordlessly, she nodded with what vigor she could manage in the blissful haze; it wasn’t as if such a thing was risky with him being a Heroic Spirit. Besides, there was no way she was going to tell him to pull out now.

 

It didn’t escape his notice that Mia was seeing stars, given that he hadn’t held back for a good several minutes, just as she’d requested. Now, he opted to go at his own pace again, to slow back down, to savor every stroke, and draw out the experience as long as he could.

 

For this, Diarmuid dropped any pretense he might have had, and shifted gears completely. He leaned down, and all but rested on her, arching to compensate for the difference in their heights, all so that he could remain face to face with her. Their eyes barely locked, tips of their noses touching, and they sank into short bursts of exceedingly sensuous kissing as their motions allowed.

 

By now, Mia had raked several pink trails over Diarmuid’s back, but even he was so consumed in the moment that he didn’t register any pain. The Irishman ran his open palm down Mia’s cheek and came to rest on her neck, only to slide back down to the small of her back so he could bring her closer.

 

Both arms wrapping under her, his thrusts steady and deep, he managed a gasping whisper, “I love you… Mia…”

 

Those three words nearly made her freeze, her heart leapt up to her throat. Sure, he’d confessed his feelings prior to this, but to hear it like that, to hear him say it amongst his feverish panting, gave her a wholly different sort of shock. She still couldn’t quite believe that of all things, that was what he had thought to say. And yet…

 

“I… I love you too…” she twined her legs together, locking him in against her, “Diarmuid…”

 

That simple gesture, the sincere return of his affections, and the physical binding of their bodies so completely, was the tipping point for the dark-haired Saber; he gave a weak but no less genuine smile, and began to quiver. His cheeks flushed still rosier, and his eyelids fluttered as his vision fell out of focus, his lips parting and softly agape.

 

“Cum for me…” Mia managed to utter.  
  
Diarmuid’s breaths became hitched, until he buckled, and as the first small burst of his ejaculate came forth, he dove into kissing his Master once more, consuming them both in making out as he rode the crashing wave of his climax. He refused to let up until after the last few pulses ceased, and with the knot in his loins now let loose again he finally collapsed on top of her.

 

Mia felt sore, both on her mouth and in her vagina, but it was a pleasant, satisfying sort of soreness. She planted a couple of playful smooches on her loyal Servants lips, nipping and gently tugging at the bottom one again, all the while feeling herself rolled to her side, still face to face with Diarmuid as they shifted into position for a post-coital embrace. She felt him slip out of her in the process, and the fluid he’d left behind sort of tingled from the intense concentration of magical energy therein.

 

“...damn,” she sighed, still a bit star-struck at the whole experience.

 

“Was it to your liking, Lady Mia?” he watched her expression with interest, fingers gently combing through the ends of her hair.

 

“Fuck, of course it was,” she trailed her index finger over his chest, and much like he’d done to her before, spiraled it inward to his nipple, “though…”

 

Her expression became mischievous, devilish even, “you don’t have to be so gentle _all_ the time, lover boy~ I can handle a bit of manhandling, you know!”

 

Diarmuid cocked an eyebrow, then winked, “Duly noted, my Lady… there’s always next time~”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so special thanks to my friend StrayLiger for letting me borrow their OC, Mia Hawke, for this!
> 
> I was inspired to do this partly because of a single sketch done by Liger that spun off into a scenario with Saber Diarmuid, which turned into this. Of course, I didn't want to leave it with just that, and I know some people talked about wishing they got some erotic art of their (ADULT) Servants when Bond 10 was reached. Well, I'm not as much of an artist as I could be, but I like to think I can write a decently good sex scene, so I guess that's the next best thing?
> 
> I do NOT take commissions because 1. it took me four fuckin' months to even get all of this written, then typed up; 2. it's against AO3's rules; and 3. I don't like the restrictions on my creative freedom that come along with being paid (especially as I have certain headcanons that I'm adamant about and will write accordingly).
> 
> HOWEVER you are more than welcome to talk to me about requests for a Servant and an OC! I like borrowing OCs for this because it gives me a little chance to try different styles of narration, dialogue, and scenarios, rather than me trying to dream OCs up on the fly, and I generally hate using the self-insert canon protags. I will not write about any Servant or OC that is under the age of 18, who has an ambiguous age i.e. may or may not be legal, or cannot give consent for one reason or another.
> 
> Anyway shoot me a message if you're interested in discussing that!


End file.
